


The Prince's Peace

by KitsJay



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Gen, kinkmeme fill, so hey guess what I was the Christmas anon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 23:32:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17796857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KitsJay/pseuds/KitsJay
Summary: Renard defends his territory.





	The Prince's Peace

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to the Grimm kinkmeme.

Renard stared at the smudges on his hand distastefully, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiping them away fastidiously. He’d have to burn the monogrammed cloth afterward.

He thought about his detective lying prone in a hospital bed, breathing through a tube, bruises marring the clean, pale skin. He was expected to make a full recovery, the doctors had told him after a tense three days of waiting – plenty of physical therapy, pain killers, and riding a desk for the next few months, but a full recovery. It was still no excuse for the pain he had been through. And to think, that he thought he had made it clear. His upper lip curled in an aristocratic sneer. Peasants, he thought, all of them. Going after what they did not understand, did not know, did not deserve.

He tucked the handkerchief carelessly into his pocket and sat on the couch. It was plush, the stuffing pushing itself out of broken seams, but it might have been a throne for the way he poised on the worn brown fabric.

He began casually, knowing the full attention of the man was on him.

“I am not completely soulless, you know. I know about your brother and sister – three years ago, was it? Their bodies were found buried in a shallow grave in the forest, I believe. I take it that was your work. Yes, I suppose it would have to be. Marie never did believe in covering her work. I imagine she thought it was a sign of weakness. Regardless, you were very close. Your kind often are.” He paused, reflecting on the habit of the lower creatures to form such close familial bonds. His own brothers and sisters would happily stab him in the back provided he ever gave them an opportunity; thankfully, he was not so stupid. If only they had paid more close attention to his own prudence, they would still be alive. He continued. “It was a shame, though I would point out that they were drawing undue attention to themselves with their habit of carrying off people. If they had stuck to vagrants, I’m sure they would have been almost unnoticed. It’s their own fault that they became adventurous enough to abduct tourists. So you see, I do know. In fact, I know everything about you.”  
He paused to give a meaningful look at the man, who was cowering before him, eyes wide and surely stinging with the sweat dripping into them. He nodded, gratified that his words were being heard.

“You, however, did not know that this particular Grimm that you attacked is mine. Had you known, I’m sure you would never have tried something so foolish.”

The man nodded fervently, wincing when it aggravated his wounds.

Renard’s lip curled into a half-smile. The creature was smart enough to recognize that it was not a good sign.

Standing, Renard stretched his limbs.

“That is the only reason you are still alive.”

He bent down, leaning in close to the man’s ear. He could smell the metallic scent of blood, the fear-tainted sweat, and it reminded him unpleasantly of the hospital room where Nick was lying. His hand was feather light against the man’s shoulder, almost the prelude to an embrace as he drew his knife and slid it into the man’s side, under his ribs. The man let out what might have been a moan behind his gag. Renard caught him as he listed to one side, blood already pouring out of the fatal wound. He whispered, softly into the man’s ear.

“Enjoy the time you have left.”


End file.
